


Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Dragonborn’s Reward

by DirtyScrolls



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dunmer (Elder Scrolls), Fantastic Racism, Fear, Knifeplay, M/M, Mages, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue Missions, Rimming, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyScrolls/pseuds/DirtyScrolls
Summary: The Dragonborn saves a handsome wizard’s ass.
Relationships: Male Dragonborn/Drevis Neloren
Comments: 24
Kudos: 37





	Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Dragonborn’s Reward

Kordin walked out of the Cloud District on a bright afternoon—blue sky, just enough of a light wind. He was in an uncharacteristically good mood, given he had actually been required, today, to undertake some of the duties that went along with Thaneship, a situation he tended to avoid where possible. And Teldryn Sero had gone off on some lucrative but boring-sounding escort job, so there would be nothing interesting to do at Breezehome.

The reason for his mood was simple. After concluding his business with Balgruuf, he had decided he’d see about a quick—or leisurely, if there was time--fuck with another gorgeous Elven warrior. So, with thoughts of Athis’s wiry grey body at the forefront of his mind, he headed for Jorrvaskr, detouring to buy some Honningbrew from Hulda first. 

The Companions greeted this offering with the expected appreciation. Unfortunately, the beautiful elf wasn’t there, busy retrieving a Riften merchant’s family heirloom. Kordin decided to hang around awhile and drink, see if perhaps the object of his desire would return in the meantime--hopefully full of vigor and covered in sweat, maybe even a little blood. 

The others asked how Kordin was, proposed friendly contests, made jokes, gossiped, and distributed jobs. 

A citizen from Winterhold had been kidnapped by local bandits who demanded ransom from the College—apparently, it was one of the professors. Aela laughingly challenged Kordin to go do the job in the distant, freezing Hold, saying he hadn’t been very useful lately (“and aren’t you ‘the Dragonborn’?”). 

Unable to argue with her assessment, and hoping for a little easy money (not that he needed it), an unusual weapon for his collection, or a few pretty gems, he agreed. Athis might be there when he returned for payment. Maybe he’d be up for a victory fuck.

The journey was cold and arduous, but the battle was more a nuisance than anything else, with Kordin dispatching the outlaws easily by stealth. 

And he found so much more than loot, though there was a lot of that—gold and gems, a two-handed ebony sword with a strong fire enchantment, expensive potions. He discovered his true good fortune when he came to the grateful captive.

Drevis Neloren, as the beleaguered elf identified himself, was perhaps a bit older than Revyn Sadri, Kordin guessed, though what did he know? Could never tell with mer. Whatever his age, his features were beautifully-carved, unmistakably Dunmer, and his hair was thick, full, and bright silver, standing up messily on his head, and forming a close, neat beard on his chin. Kordin had seen younger elves with the same shade of hair before. He loved the contrast with the dusky skin. This mer’s skin was a deep, satisfying grey. His lips were lush, his chin strong, his brow arched. 

Kordin could not help but smile widely as soon as he saw him on the ragged bedroll, his thin hands bound in front of him with a set of metal cuffs connected to the wall by a heavy-looking chain.

He was wearing dirty College robes and pants, which fit him well enough but made his body harder to evaluate. It looked slim, befitting a mage, with broad shoulders and lean legs. 

He was, all around, a damn pretty thing. That strong face, that striking hair. But a mage, Kordin reminded himself. Dangerous, even in chains.

“Careful,” offered the mer, “These cuffs are enchanted.”

“Oh?”

“All I know is they—deplete my magicka. Completely. I’m not sure what else they do. I’d advise caution.”

Kordin stopped himself from smiling again. Gods, he was craving a grey-skin, and here, served right up as if on an ornate platter, was the perfect solution. He had to admit the notion of taking a presumably powerful, and obviously lovely mage pleased him especially. He wondered if this one was, under normal circumstances, as arrogant as so many he’d met. 

So far, he seemed trusting and even kind, which made him tempting in a different way. There was something Kordin liked about reducing a genuinely gentle mer or man to tears. 

For instance, he knew Sero to have hidden compassion in his old, cynical heart. He gave to beggars, treated rescued hostages with gruff care, spoke his mind about whether he thought a job was right or wrong. His irritating ethics made it somehow all the sweeter to abuse him, degrade him, make him dirty. 

But these noble qualities also worried Kordin; he was never without the nagging awareness that he couldn’t let Sero know what he did with--or to—other elves and men. He couldn’t let him know his crimes extended beyond organized thievery. Sero, annoyingly honorable creature that he was, might even feel compelled to bypass the guards and try to kill his patron in order to stop him, and he was one of the few people in Skyrim Kordin could see succeeding at that. Apart from sexual gratification, that was actually one reason he kept the formidable Dunmer in his employ; Sero could match him. Useful, but troubling.

“Thank you for telling me,” Kordin said, as he ran a finger along Drevis Neloren’s keen cheekbone.

Neloren winced away from him, instinctively. “What are you--”

Kordin decided to cut to the heart of things.

“Ever been fucked, mage?” he asked, cupping the dark man’s chin, “Hard to believe you’re… untouched.”

“I—you---not in the way you...” Neloren’s ash-colored face blushed deeply. His round dark-red eyes were appealingly distressed.

“Oh?” Kordin moved closer to the bound Dunmer, like an animal going in to sniff his trapped quarry. “Not in the ass, you mean?”

“Yes! I mean—no!”

“A pity no one has had that pleasure yet,” the Nord said, reaching to stroke Neloren’s abundant, spiked-up, silver hair. “I don’t feel quite worthy to be the first, but I’ll have to get over it, won’t I?” 

He ran his hands down the mer’s body through the robes. Thin, yes, but it was also well-defined, with small efficient muscles. A good wizard needed to be able to fall back on the physical, at least enough to get out alive, just as a good thief or warrior might know a little illusion or restoration. Though Neloren had apparently failed, in this case, to fall back on anything.

“Handsome little mage,” he remarked, as he insistently explored the helpless mer. “Just perfect.”

The mage’s entire body went stiff as Kordin felt up his slender limbs and torso. Definitely too sweet a morsel to be hidden away in some half-collapsed pile of frigid stone. He wanted to plunder him, heat him up a bit. 

Thoughts of payment (not that he needed it) and even his standing in the Companions retreated from his mind. He would handle it later. Threaten or maybe even pay the elf. The mage might accept the latter—Kordin had, of course, met more than one grey-skin willing to sell his flesh, though usually in more desperate economic circumstances. 

Nothing remained in his mind except his desire to have this mer utterly open, to take, taste, enjoy.

“I thought you were here to help,” the mage finally spoke. “I thought the College would have hired the Companions, if anyone. What are you, some degenerate freelance thug--? I’ll--”

Kordin tugged on his hair.

“I’m going to free you, if you cooperate. If not, I’ll just have to find some interesting uses for your corpse.” Kordin ran a hand along the slim cheek, over the short silver beard. “I don’t have to recover you alive. I don’t need the money.”

Neloren was indignant.

“If you think the College won’t find out about this--”

“Maybe I wasn’t as clear as I could have been.”

Kordin loved this moment—the moment he flashed the blade. He often remembered and savored the effects the mere sight of one of his daggers had on his victims—Sadri, Rendar, Imyan. Sudden terror in the beautiful red eyes of a proud grey-skin—it was enough to make him shiver with lust, as they so often shivered in fear.

The sharp, frost-enchanted ebony indeed did something pleasing to Neloren, as Kordin removed it from his belt and ran it gently from Neloren’s clothed belly to his bare neck. The mer’s slim body stiffened again, his full lips shivered, opened, then closed. His eyes looked even bigger as they met Kordin’s-- big fine rubies.

“You can die in this cave, pretty man,” he told Neloren, ticking his throat with the point of the dagger and the tapered ear with his hand, “or you can give up that little Dunmer ass willingly.”

“The College--”

“Has what kind of influence? No one trusts you fucking mages. Try getting the Jarl of Winterhold to investigate wild claims by some witch-elf.”

The mer knew enough to take Kordin’s argument seriously, along with the blade lovingly tracing his soft grey neck. 

“What do you—What do you intend to do?”

“Take your virginity, I guess, in at least one way. Have you ever--”

“I—I was engaged once,” blurted Neloren nervously.

“So you’ve put your cock in someone?”

The Dunmer blushed from his cheeks to his forehead--blushed deliciously.

“If you want to put it that way.” he said, turning his head so he wouldn’t have to look at the Nord.

So wonderfully prudish. It was a particular indulgence, Kordin knew, to corrupt an innocent, inner-focused scholar. 

Aicantar at Markarth had been one such pleasure. There had been a party at Understone Keep, and the young Altmer had been too full of wine. So inexperienced that the long-limbed, strong, beautiful creature had reddened and writhed and thrashed at everything Kordin had done to him. Gods, what a fine golden fuck he had been. He’d have to take another Altmer soon, but right now that wasn’t important. Only this silvery-haired, grey-skinned beauty mattered.

This one was more mature, with his wits about him. Cuffs or no, Kordin reminded himself that his victim was also potentially quite resourceful.

Aroused by this possible danger, he kissed his bound mage, opening his mouth and probing. Neloren let him but did not welcome him. Kordin indulged anyway, jabbing his tongue into that soft dark mouth. He sank his hands into the slightly wavy hair and pulled, messing it up further than it already was.

“Oh, you taste very good, mage. I’m so fucking glad I found you.” He slid his hands again down the mage’s body, enjoying the feel of his lean shoulders, sides, waist, and thighs, all while the Dunmer stilled himself, his cheeks flushed. “Oh, Sithis, yes, you’re just--”

“Sithis?” The Dunmer drew back in shock.

“Surprised, grey-skin?”

“Divines...”

“Yes. I’ll make you hurt if you displease me, but I’m not on a job now. Just know that your corpse would be just as appealing to me.”

“Gods—I—please don’t--”

“That depends on you, love. Give me everything I want, and I’ll try not to make you bleed.”

The elf’s eyes went wide again, and he started to try to squirm away, then though better of it.

“What should I--?”

“Everything I tell you, and nothing more, handsome. First thing is to get these robes off you.” He tugged at the mage’s pants, very near his crotch. “I want to see you stripped, my sweet thing.”

The Dunmer didn’t meet his eyes, his high flush increasing as Kordin undid the tie on his rich trousers and tugged them off each slim, firm grey leg. He untied his boots, and soon the slender feet were exposed too. He rubbed the pretty toes between his fingers, making the sensitive mer squirm.

One of Kordin’s hands crept up the mage’s leg, while the other continued to play with the pretty, ticklish foot. (Sometimes, he liked to bathe and bind Sero so he could suck on his fine feet while the mercenary writhed. To Sero, it was both a torture and a pleasure.) As Kordin stroked up under Neloren’s loincloth and the front of his short robes, the mer bowed his head and tried to hide it in his shoulder. Kordin assessed the soft grey prick hiding in the shining nearly-white bush. He pinched the inner muscle of his thigh.

“Look at me, my lovely elf.” he said, taking Neloren’s chin in hand. “Do as I say, remember?”

Neloren was breathing deeply, harshly.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his wide, fear-filled scarlet eyes meeting the Nord’s.

“I’m going to open your robe. I want to see all of you.”

Kordin untied the belt that held the upper robe together, opening it up to reveal Neloren’s thin but well-defined torso. There were a few silvery hairs on his chest, matching the neat pubic hair. Kordin reached down to palm over the mer’s genitals. His dark cock was soft, and his sack pleasingly heavy-looking. 

“Very fucking nice, mage. If only I could see you hard.”

“I—Oh, Divines--” Neloren whispered, trying to look away again, his face darkly flushed.

Kordin slapped his cheek lightly.

“Look at me, I said.” 

Neloren immediately obeyed, his liquid red eyes almost wild with fear. Kordin slid his blade from the wizard’s shining pubic hair, up his slim little belly, to his chest, savoring the man’s shuddery reaction. With the other hand, he reached under to pinch a handful of firm, surprisingly generous ass.

“Oh, I can tell this is going to be sweet,” he said, again caressing Neloren’s throat with the dagger, just to see the apprehension rise again in his gemlike eyes. “I think I’ll eat out that tasty grey ass. Lay back and spread.”

“You—what?”

“I’m going to lick your crack, elf. Don’t worry if you aren’t clean.”

Neloren nearly turned purple with embarrassment.

“I said lay back and spread,” Kordin told him, caressing the length of the mage’s bare torso with the blade. “Or I could turn you ass-up, but that might be less comfortable.” Kordin gestured at the elf’s cuffed wrists. “Besides, I like you the way you are. I wanna be able to see those pretty eyes if I look up at you.”

The deeply blushing Dunmer opened his thighs and leaned back awkwardly onto the dirty bedroll. 

His cleft was dark grey, with a pinkish, almost violet tinge, and a little neat silver hair lining it. The hole looked very dark, rather small, even for a grey-skin. The Nord brushed his fingers over it just to see what the mer would do. Neloren made an inarticulate sound of protest in his throat, a sound he reprised, in a higher, more desperate tone, as Kordin’s large hand palmed over his soft grey prick.

The Nord smiled at his prey, meeting the shining red eyes.

“You don’t like all this… attention, do you, lovely thing? I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it.”

He burrowed his face in the dark grey crack. It was indeed fragrant—after all, the mer had spent days in captivity, with no chance to bathe. Gods, it was good, and he shivered with sensual joy at the sound of the surely-fastidious Dunmer’s humiliation. He circled his tongue around the small pucker, feeling the unique texture of that sensitive area, tasting, loving it. He lapped rapidly at the hole, thinking there was a chance he could stimulate the staid mer. Finally, he simply indulged, pressing his face into the crack, surrounding himself with the hot flesh and the scent and taste. He couldn’t say how long he spent eating him, alternating between gentle kisses and licks to the tender secret flesh.

“Gods, you have no idea,” he said, coming back up, “just how fucking beautiful that was. Now I have to fuck you. You’re too good. So, you want it face-down, or you want to stay this way?”

The Dunmer just looked at him, alarmed.

“You want your ass fucked this way, or do I turn your pretty body over? You choose.”

Kordin stroked Neloren’s thick hair, then his close little beard. 

“Hmm, my love. Which do you want? You’re getting it either way.”

“I—I’ll stay this way.”

“Beautiful. And you really are, you know—beautiful.”

The Nord oiled his finger with the finest oil in his apothecary satchel, and began to massage and then prod his prey’s untouched little hole. The Dunmer squirmed as much as the Nord had expected from a small mer, a virgin, and an uptight little mage. Gods, he was delightful.

He was delightful to slide into, too. Kordin saw no point in prolonging things, as fun as that might have been. Something about this mer made him want to bore full-force into him. With his blushing, innocent attitude, he was just asking for a harsh, humbling fuck. That was exactly what he got, after a cursory probing with Kordin’s wide fingers, during which he yelled. 

Kordin didn’t even try to make Neloren like it; he just made sure he himself would, oiling him only enough to be comfortable for his own large Nord cock. Going only slow enough to satisfy his own pleasure. Nonetheless, he kissed the mage, feeling the groomed beard tickling him, the wetness of the shocked mouth, as he drilled steadily into him. The Dunmer screamed shamelessly against Kordin’s forceful mouth as his previously-untapped asshole burned. 

There was no one to hear, so Kordin let him yell, leaning back to stroke his open mouth as he fucked him, wondering if he’d bite. All Neloren did was protest incoherently as Kordin drove into him, then whimper as he lost energy. His jewel eyes leaked, but there was no sound. Kordin pressed against the small body as he shot spurts of come inside it. When Neloren finally seemed to go limp with some sort of shock, he kissed him and stroked him up and down, sometimes nibbling on his neck. 

“Tell your College not to bother paying,” he said, stroking the mer’s cheek.

Neloren just tried to hide his face, but Kordin cupped his chin.

“And, remember, if you feel like telling how exactly you got rescued, there is the Brotherhood to contend with. Think you’re up for it, my handsome mage? Want to risk it?”


End file.
